A glimpse into my faith, my dream of writing, and reaching people for Christ through my words.
words fail, when they
should say everything.
but the blank page
intimidates the tender heart.
the ink wants to glide,
but the mind holds tight,
afraid of what the
consequence might be
if, when set free, the
words would mean more
to the heart, the mind
who wrote them, than
to the eye they’re given
to. an uneven distribution,
a fear of them being
too much. or worse—
they won’t ever be enough.
Feet dangling, fighting gravity,
Black waves beckon and crash below.
The weather is changing, threatening,
What could be, what has been.
Spring brought new light, and life,
The sun lengthened each day.
Hope sprouted with every bud,
Flowers bloomed, with colors bright.
That growth moved into summer,
Electricity built with each lightning strike.
The scent of monsoon hung over head,
As the day faded into purple twilight.
Shadows fell, as the sun changed,
Drifting into fall’s shortened stage.
Leaves turned orange, or brown, dim,
Dried, died, lost their grip of home.
Cold air stung cheeks and noses,
Joints and bones ached in the wind.
Snow sank with grace but didn’t stay,
Just soaked the asphalt beneath it.
Feet dangling, fighting gravity,
Black waves beckon and crash below.
The weather changed, threatening,
What could be, what has been,
With seasons blown through, ignored.
Through the words left unsaid.
Time is fleeting
A moment lasts
Only until the next
Comes in
The bird poses, showing
Off, singing her song
Only until something
Scares her.
The rainbow exists,
Only while the light
And the moisture Are
transparent.
The sunflower grows, reaching
For new heights, until
The weight of her load,
Breaks her.
The camera flashes, capturing
Only that second, the
Surface. Only what exists,
Right then.
The sun and the moon are
opposites.
One burns bright, blinding,
The busy day.
The other soft, lighting
The quiet night.
The sun, is a showoff,
He shines through anyone,
Or anything, that tries to hide
His face. His thundering laughter
Echoes off, even the darkest of cloud
Showing us that black and blue
circumstances, can’t keep him quiet.
He feels and reflects, only the light
Things of this life. Happiness
Fills his definition, his self.
He announces his presence,
When he arrives, when he leaves,
Painting the skies with gold and pink.
Making sure that even though he’s
Gone, at rest, you’ll remember.
The moon is still, silent,
Content to be hidden behind
The scenes. She knows her place,
Her purpose, shining simply so
Night is separate, from the day.
She feels the pain and tears
Of insomnia, watching over those
Who wait, who lose sleep, over lost
Dreams, chances, memories—
And finds she can relate.
She embraces each change, each
Phase she goes through. Taking note
Of how time passes by. Sometimes big,
Sometimes broken, sometimes hidden,
But never bold enough, to conquer the sky.
The sun and the moon are opposites,
One burns bright, blinding,
The other is soft, lighting.
But both burn with questions,
Of how the other exists.
He longs to know the moon,
Her quiet, still, frame of mind,
The way she relates, the things she feels,
How she holds everything he lacks.
And she pines for a piece of the sun,
His light, carefree beams,
How he can laugh, shrug it off,
Admiration from all who see.
To know more of her,
To be more like him.
A balance, a compromise,
Of everything simple,
Of all that’s complex.
Floating, out of place,
Hoping to find somewhere
To belong.
Caught, in the waves,
Lost in the current,
Without strength.
Cold, alone in the deep
End of your thoughts,
Searching.
Forgotten, cut off from
What is known, familiar,
Replaced by new
Faces, and feelings,
Wondering if your place,
Ever really existed.
Reflections: yours, theirs,
Tease, challenge, inspire,
To swim, or sink,
Or stay.
Shapes, in early light
Are highlighted. Shine.
Shadows, in faded light
Are invisible. Go unseen.
Signals, in ending light
Get misread. And mislead.
Hope, buds and grows
In the beginning. The start.
Hands, reach, trying to hold
On. To something. To nothing.
Hearts, break beneath words
Dreamt of, but never said.
One part folds, fades, into
The next. Before you knew
Where you were. And now
You’re simply stuck. Exactly
Where you are.
The lights glow, outlining,
Highlighting, forecasting,
In shades of red, then green.
And yellow, the in between.
Droplets slide down the glass
Some clinging to the door handle,
Others falling, splat, to the pavement
Not able to hold on as life spins away.
Lightning strikes, cracking the earth,
Opening the seams, energy,
Electricity, transferred from the sky
To the ground, and those close by.
Thunder rolls off the clouds, the hills,
Echoing the lost and forgotten hopes, the
Broken and shattered dreams, the chances
Not taken, that have turned to regrets.
She stares up, searching the stars,
But they’re hidden by the storm, out of reach.
She blinks, wondering if it’ll pass,
So she can try again.
Someone like me—
deals with anxiety.
Caring too much for
what doesn’t matter.
And not enough for
what truly does.
Someone like me—
falls short over and over.
Never enough, never
brave, never perfect.
Failing, flailing,
hurting myself, and others.
Someone like me—
stutters and stumbles.
Struggling with the same
things, every single time.
Wondering if there will ever
be change. Or hope.
Someone like me—
is never understood by
those who surround me.
My thoughts, my dreams,
never match theirs,
dividing my heart in half.
Someone like me—
is unworthy, alone to
face the giants and fears.
Trembling, shaking, shattering,
instead of taking hold of the
stones in my hand.
Someone like me—
is hopeless, a lost cause.
Getting left behind in this life.
Deserving nothing but darkness,
shame, and guilt. The
results of my stupidity.
But Someone like Him—
Redefined my future, redefined
every lie I believe about
myself. With one display
of incomprehensible love—
His death on the cross.
Someone like Him,
has plans for me,
using my failures, my falls,
my anxiety— to create a
masterpiece I can’t see.
Or even start to understand.
Someone like Him,
loves even the most unlovable
pieces of my heart and soul.
Tearing down the walls,
the barrier of sin and hell,
so I can have a forever with Him.
Someone like Him,
With unending mercy and
relentless love, takes my
unworthiness, my guilt, my shame,
and all of the other lies I hold,
and breathes truth into my darkness—
Reaching me with unshakable kindness.
Holding me with unchanging patience.
Freeing me with unfailing grace.
And loving me, when no one should.
A creative mind, an over-thinker,
Always wondering what if,
Always asking how come,
Always needing the why,
Makes for an introspective person,
Who would rather tell stories
To herself, and poems to the wind,
Than hold a lengthy conversation.
Her hand curls around her pen,
Words and hopes flowing out.
Dreams that will stay unspoken
Slide out in ink over her paper.
It’s here, on paper, that she has the
Control—her thoughts and actions run
The show. The characters in her mind have
No choice, but to do as she says.
This is a place where her mistakes
Never happened; she can fix anything,
And everything, she regrets. She doesn’t
Hesitate, or think, before she speaks.
Real life is hard for her, simply
Because it doesn’t work this way.
She doesn’t have control, she doesn’t
Know the whole, or even part of, the plot.
She can’t imagine Someone knowing,
The story better than she does.
It’s difficult to understand that His words,
And plot, are better than her own.
She still wonders what if, she still asks
How come, and she’ll always long for
the why. But she is learning to find comfort
From the heart of the One who made her.
So with tears in my eyes, I work each finger
Carefully taking each one and letting go,
Releasing my hold off of my pen,
And I give it all back to Him.
Out of place, out of reach,
Tangled in the mane
Of uncertainty.
Torn away from what
Home, the future, was
Supposed to be.
Waiting, for someone,
Something, anything,
To make sense.
But rumors swirl in,
Then out, before they could
Ever be true.
Wondering if it’ll ever
Be seen, or wanted,
For what the eye
Will never see.
One Word at a Time 